


Fry Up

by soongtypeprincess



Series: Married Coppers [15]
Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: BDSM (mention of), Banter, Domestic, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Honeymoon, Husbands, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Series, Same-Sex Marriage, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 17:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14774091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soongtypeprincess/pseuds/soongtypeprincess
Summary: On the third day of their honeymoon, Gene discovers a secret that Sam has kept from him.





	Fry Up

**Author's Note:**

> God, they're so damn married.

It was three in the afternoon before Gene awoke, his long arm stretched across the mattress, his hand on the spot where Sam had lain. 

He smelled the bacon before he heard it sizzle and pop in the kitchen. Gene lifted his head from the pillow and looked toward the kitchen across from the bed.

This was the third day of their honeymoon in a secluded part of Cumbria, in a small thatch-roofed cottage, surrounded by wide moors and the sound of bleating lambs and barking dogs in the distance. The day had passed them by, but it was of no matter to them. They could care less about time right now.

Small though it was, it was perfect accommodations for the newlyweds. He had been secretly nervous about the place, only having spoken once over the phone to the little old lady who owned it, Gene found that the cottage was perfect.

At least, according to his sentimental git of a husband, it was perfect.

_ Husband _ . Gene grinned at the thought of the word and watched Sam in the kitchen, who was wearing only his blue pajama bottoms and tending to the bacon.

Gene sat up and leaned back against the headboard as he rubbed his naked chest, still smiling when he greeted Sam.

“Good morning, Mr. Hunt.”

Sam’s giggle was music to Gene’s ears, but then of course they were both still reeling from the ecstasy of last night.

“Good  _ afternoon _ , Mr. Tyler,” Sam corrected him. “Just doing a bit of an afternoon fry up. ‘Spose you’ve got an appetite.”

“Only for you, Sammy-boy,” Gene purred. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Not tired of me yet, eh? That’s good to know.”

“A good fuck  _ and _ a good cook? I’d be one foolish fella to be tired of  _ that _ .”

Sam grinned. “Always the charmer,” he muttered. 

Gene climbed off the bed and strutted to the lavatory, making Sam laugh again.

Sam filled the filter basket of the percolator with coffee and screwed the kettle on before setting it on another burner and opening the refrigerator for the egg carton.

“You like your eggs over hard, yeah?” Sam shouted, so that Gene could hear him.

“Only if you like a foot up your arse!” Gene shouted back, through the lav door.

Sam giggled again. “Sunny side-up it is, then,” he said to himself, even though he knew full well how Gene liked his eggs. He also knew how he took his coffee and tea. And how he liked his socks folded.

How the bloody hell they got from throwing punches to folding laundry together Sam will never know.

He put another frying pan on the cooker when he felt arms slide around his waist. Sam was pulled into Gene’s bare torso and felt his lips on the crook of his neck.

Sam turned to Gene and looked down at his plaid pajama bottoms. “This is the first time you’ve been dressed since we got here.”

“Not so,” Gene muttered against Sam’s neck. “What about our picnic yesterday?”

“Hell of a picnic,” Sam huffed. “You screaming in my face and chucking my food--”

“And shagging you behind a tree, don’t forget that one.”

Sam smirked and gave Gene a sly look. He placed both hands on Gene’s chest and slowly dragged his fingertips downward, over his nipples and down along his ribs and his stomach until they reached the waistband of his pajamas. Sam gripped them and pushed him, leading Gene away from the cooker until he was against the edge of the counter. He pressed against him and kissed him, and Gene let out a moan as he slid his tongue into Sam’s warm mouth.

He felt Sam’s hands travel up his back and his arms curled under his and he gripped his shoulders, making Gene caressing his own fingers down Sam’s naked back.

Gene turned their bodies until Sam was against the counter, but Sam hopped onto it, leading Gene’s head to his chest.

Gene’s lips found one of Sam’s nipples and proceeded to gently suck it. Sam bit his lip and whimpered as Gene’s tongue massaged. Sam’s gripped the nape of Gene’s neck with one hand while the other gripped his shoulder.

Teeth grazed his skin as Gene moved from his nipple to his ribs. “Oh, God,” Sam whispered. 

Gene’s hand pressed against the crotch of Sam’s pajama pants and he moaned in delight at the feeling of his growing erection. He pulled the front of the waistband down, and Sam reclined until his hips were on the edge of the counter. 

His breath hitched and the back of his head hit the cupboard. Wet lips slid down his cock and his groan echoed. “Oh, shit!” 

Gene could only giggle in response as he sucked him off, but stopped when he heard the bacon pop. He pulled away from Sam and walked to the cooker to flip the bacon strips in the frying pan.

Sam fixed his pants and slid onto the floor. “Don’t want that to burn now, do we?” he asked in a snarky voice. Gene suddenly stomped over to him and pushed him against the counter again. 

“Who said you could put that away?” Gene growled against his ear. “You...naughty boy, you.”

Sam sighed, gripping the edge of the counter as his knees became weak. He licked his lips and replied, “I...can do...what I damn well please.”

He felt Gene’s hot breath against his neck now, and his hand traced Sam’s jaw. “I brought my cuffs, you know,” he whispered, his lips still hovering over his ear. His other hand moved from Sam’s jaw and into the front of his pajama bottoms. “And my belt.” The soft noise Sam emitted gave Gene chills. He stroked Sam’s hard shaft with two finger. “I’m not done with him.”

Sam’s hips bucked as Gene squeezed the head of his cock. “Careful, love,” he told him. “He’s a bit sensitive from last night.”

“Aww,” Gene said, looking at him now as he stroked him. “Did I play too rough with him?”

Sam raised his fingers to Gene’s cheek and caressed him. “Let’s take a break, eh?” Sam suggested.

“We’ve slept. What more do you want?”

“Well,  _ food _ would be nice.”

Gene clicked his tongue. “Ugh, fine,” he groaned, but smiled as he let go of Sam and kissed his forehead before turning to the bubbling percolator and helping himself to a cup.

He took a sip of his coffee and looked at the cooker top. “You’re not gonna use  _ that _ pan for the eggs, are you?” he asked. 

Sam smirked. “That was my plan. Why, what’s wrong with it?”

“Sammy, you gotta fry up the eggs in the bacon grease... _ with _ the bacon!” Gene explained.

“Who says I do? Besides, why do you think I bought that tin of olive oil?”

Gene took another sip of his coffee as he frowned at him. “Do you have a secret villa in Greece? What is this obsession you have with olive oil?”

Sam rolled his eyes, not as playfully this time. “Olive oil happens to be much healthier than ruddy bacon grease,” he stated.

“Bollocks!” said Gene. “I’ve been frying me eggs in it for years and I’m as healthy as a horse!”

Sam crossed his arms and gave him a mischievous grin. “That may be true...but perhaps the reason you feel so healthy is because, for the past few years,  _ someone else _ has been frying up your eggs.”

Gene’s eyes grew wide as he slowly moved his coffee away from his lips. “Samuel,” he growled. “Have you been cooking me eggs in--”

Sam stepped closer. “Pure, healthy, one-hundred percent, extra...virgin... _ olive oil _ .”

Gene set his coffee onto the counter. “And where, pray tell,” he asked, “have you been keeping all the fry-up grease...these  _ past few years _ ?”

Sam stepped even closer, his lips hovering over his husband’s. “In. The. Bin.” He lightly kissed him and turned his attention to the cooker, opening the tin of olive oil. 

Gene sighed as he made his way back to the bed and put on his robe. He put his hands in the pockets and silently watched Sam measure out the oil and crack six eggs into the pan. 

He turned his head to the window by the front door when he heard the wind knock against it. “Hm,” he mumbled, “might be a cold night. Think we’ll put that fireplace to good use.”

“That’s not a bad idea, Guv,” Sam said. “Been a while since I’ve fallen asleep to the sound of a crackling fire.”

Gene moaned in agreement, nodding his head as he smirked. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and approached Sam again.

Sam didn’t regard him, but only stared down at the eggs as the whites of them began to pop. He felt lips on the back of his neck and sighed when he felt Gene’s hands on his shoulders. His thumbs stroked him, and Sam leaned back into Gene, receiving a kiss on the temple.

“I never knew you cared, Tyler,” Gene said before kissing him again.

Sam huffed as he smiled. “Of course I care, Guv,” he replied. 

“How much?”

Sam took Gene’s left hand and turned it with the palm facing upward. He placed his own left hand in it, in the same fashion, displaying their new gold rings, each with two encrusted diamonds.

“That much,” Sam whispered.

He didn’t notice, but Gene was trying to resist smiling, but failed, and nuzzled into Sam’s short hair with his nose.

“Daft, sentimental git.”


End file.
